


The Alliance of Pretty Wingmen

by ayyy_lmao



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, and iwa might later, and so are iwa and hanamaki, but the main ship is iwaoi, iwaoi - Freeform, lmao enjoy, lmao they're in their first year of uni, matsuhana - Freeform, matsukawa and oiks play volleyball, meme team - Freeform, oiks and matsukawa are roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayyy_lmao/pseuds/ayyy_lmao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternative Title: Oikawa Tooru's Foolproof Plan to Get Laid</p>
<p>During their first year of university, Oikawa Tooru decides to set his roommate and high school friend up with a guy living a few dorms down the hall. What he did not fully account for was that guy's respective roommate.</p>
<p>or</p>
<p>another one where oikawa is the most gigantic nerd ever and iwaizumi could not be more confused</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first fic i've ever published :))) if it's shit please let me know and i'll never do this again :)))))) also constructive criticism is much appreciated!

_Maybe this would be the day…_

                Matsukawa sighed as he settled into his favourite lounge chair in the sitting room of his apartment, laptop in one hand and mug of tea in the other. He had written his last midterm that morning, and after that volleyball practice, followed by a long shift with plenty of customers... _Maybe this will be the day I can_ finally _have a moment to relax,_ Matsukawa thought contentedly, raising the mug to his lips and inhaling deeply. _Maybe-_

                “Yahoo, Mattsun!”

                Matsukawa jumped, nearly spilling hot tea all over himself. _You should have known_ , part of his brain told him in an annoyingly passive-aggressive voice. He turned around only to be met with the sight of none other than his roommate, Oikawa Tooru, standing in the doorway in all his pastel glory. Oikawa looked like he had just run three miles at a full sprint (Matsukawa could attest that this had happened before), and the door looked dangerously close to falling off its hinges (and so had this).

                Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “Good evening to you, too. Care to enlighten me on the meaning of the word ‘knock’? And while you’re at it, how ‘knocking’ could potentially be applied in a real-life situation?” he drawled.

                Oikawa stamped his foot impatiently, trying to outdo Matsukawa in the dramatism of his eyeroll. (He in fact could not out-eyeroll Matsukawa. No one could. Matsukawa Issei was, without question, the interplanetary eye rolling champion.) “How about ‘the completely unnecessary slight bruising of Oikawa’s poor young knuckles--died too young--when said great senpai,’” Oikawa paused to clear his throat theatrically, “‘has wonderful news for young Mattsun!’”

                Matsukawa’s usual slightly amused indifference at his roommate’s antics shifted to slight (well slightly more than “slight”) terror at the word “news”. Oikawa Tooru’s “news” usually involved supposed “alien sightings”, which usually ended up being large beetles, cute guys (“His hotness was out of this world, Mattsun!”), natural disasters, or a combination of the three (Matsukawa had tried desperately, to absolutely no avail, to forget the Great UFO Incident). “And what would this “news” entail?” he inquired, trying not to let the dread creep into his voice.

                Oikawa cleared his throat again. “You can thank me later, because the great Oikawa-senpai has scored you a date!”

                Matsukawa groaned, burying his face in a nearby pillow, in a half-hearted attempt at self-induced suffocation. Oikawa’s previous schemes to get Matsukawa a boyfriend had definitely fallen under the category of natural disaster. And _senpai_?

                “Save the moaning for at least the third date, Mattsun! You haven’t even met him yet. And not in my apartment either…”

                “ _You_ sure are one to talk—“

            “And the gracious, generous Oikawa-senpai would be delighted to accompany young Mattsun as his official wingman.”

            _Could this day possibly get any worse?_

 

 

                Iwaizumi was just such a good friend.

                So, when Hanamaki came up to him, practically begging his roommate to accompany him on his date with a really cute guy in his Lit class, Iwaizumi, like the true saint he was, accepted his role as wingman with only few wise words of complaint and sarcasm.

                Iwaizumi had been surprised, upon arriving at his apartment after his Biology midterm, to be met with the sight of his roommate pacing around their dorm, wringing his hands nervously and muttering something unintelligible. _What was he doing?_

                “Hanamaki, if you’re planning on gaining any mileage, I suggest you take your power walk out of the sitting room.”

                The poor boy had jumped nearly a foot at the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice. In spite of his earlier comment, Iwaizumi had actually been quite concerned for his friend. Hanamaki’s level of chill seemed to permanently rest between refrigerator and polar jet stream. In fact, Iwaizumi was not sure he’d ever seen his facial expression stray this far from Disinterested Sloth.

                “What happened?” Iwaizumi remembered asking, mainly to prevent him from continuing his living room circuits.

                “Sobasicallythefirstyearfromthreedoorsdownidon’tknowifyouknowhimOikawasomethingTooruthatswhathisnamewas—“

                “Slow _down,_ Hanamaki. I’m getting asthma just watching you.”

                Hanamaki had (finally) exhaled slowly, seeming to calm down. “So _basically,_ that first year from three doors down—his name’s Oikawa, I think—came by and—“

                “Wow, Makki, you got someone besides the angry vice principal to come over voluntarily? I’m impressed,” Iwaizumi had teased, more to lighten things up and calm the guy down than anything. And it seemed to work.

                Hanamaki rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you have any more of a social life, Iwaizumi—you’ve gone to bed before ten every Friday night for as long as I’ve been around. So _anyway,_ Oikawa made this dramatic speech about how he was the greatest matchmaker in all of recorded history. I obviously didn’t believe a word he said until, well, he declared that I should date his roommate.”

                “And said roommate is…”

                “ _Matsukawa Issei!_ He’s this _really_ cute guy from my Lit class, and I think he’s even on the volleyball team…”

                “I’m not seeing the problem. Cute volleyball-playing guy from Lit class does not explain your pacing like a disgruntled wildebeest.”

                “ _I have a date with him tomorrow morning, Iwaizumi!”_ Hanamaki had seemed even more flustered than before, as if this had only dawned on him as a reality right then.

                _Oh. The idiot was worried about his date._

“Can you _please_ come with me? For, you know, moral support and stuff. I still can’t _believe_ I have a _date_ with—“

                Iwaizumi really wasn’t sure why he had cut Hanamaki off with an agreement to act as wingman for that date. Maybe it was to stop the guy from taking up that godforsaken pacing. Or maybe it was because he had a midterm the next evening and was so sick of studying.

                Whatever it was, Iwaizumi was just _such_ a good friend.

 

 

                Iwaizumi knew this would be a mistake.

                It wasn’t Hanamaki that was the problem—the boy found his date right away and was immediately absorbed in a conversation about something that sounded like “meem” (Iwaizumi chose not to question). The Problem was sitting across the café, nursing a cup of coffee, while subtly sneaking glances at the pair of newlydates, much like Iwaizumi himself.

                But the problem with The Problem that made The Problem a problem was that The Problem was insanely attractive.

                (And the other problem which increased the problematic quotient of The Problem was that the café was deserted except for Hanamaki and his date. Who were very clearly not experiencing any problems, whatsoever.)

                Iwaizumi was finding it very difficult to look busy, as in the process of trying to keep Hanamaki calm (he was honestly _such_ a good friend), he forgot his phone, wallet _and_ Calculus textbook. There was only a certain number of times you could look over a coffee shop’s menu display before it looked like you were majoring in espresso names. Iwaizumi silently groaned. He didn’t even want to _think_ about what the attractive guy, who was now making a beeline for Iwaizumi, was probably thinking…

                _Wait,_ what _?_

In all his self-pity, Iwaizumi had not even noticed that the boy had gone up to the counter, bought another coffee, and was currently walking straight toward Iwaizumi.

                _Shit._

                The boy stopped at his table. If Iwaizumi thought he was attractive from across the café, up close, this guy was nothing short of beautiful. (He was nothing short of anything really. On top of everything, he just _had_ to be tall, too.) He was wearing a large teal sweater over white jeans that were, in Iwaizumi’s opinion, _much_ too tight. A light gray beanie only partially brought order to a mess of soft brown hair. Iwaizumi’s eyes could not help but be drawn to his large chocolate ones, which lit up his pretty face as he broke into a grin.

                The boy pushed a coffee toward Iwaizumi, sliding into the booth across from him. Fighting a blush from rising up his neck, and partially because probably wouldn’t be able to talk if he tried, Iwaizumi opted for the Nonchalant Eyebrow Quirk.

                “Oikawa Tooru,” the boy introduced himself.

                “Iwaizumi Hajime.”

                Oikawa’s face split into a mischievous smirk. “Well, Iwa-chan, welcome to the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which i outmemed myself.

Iwaizumi was not sure what shocked him more: that a guy who was attractive to the point of annoyance had just called _him_ pretty, or that the dumbass in question was arrogant enough to compliment himself like that. He literally had _no idea_ what to say or even _think_ in this situation, and this infuriated him. He settled for a deep frown, hoping it would be enough to scare Oikawa, and his stupid pretty face away.

                (Apparently, it would not.) “Iwa-chan, you’re going to look like an old wrinkly man soon if you keep frowning like that!” Oikawa practically sang.

                _Wait,_ “Iwa-chan” _?_

“ _What_ did you just call me?”

                There was that stupid smirk again. “I’m saving you, Iwa-chan. “Iwaizumi” sounds so much more like an angry old man. Along with that frown, you’d become one in no time if not for my help.”

                _“Did you just call me an angry old man?”_

Oikawa sighed theatrically. “There is still hope…”

                _His personality is just as irritating as his level of attractiveness._ Iwaizumi had half a mind to dump his entire black coffee- _how did Oikawa know he liked black coffee?_ -on the idiot’s head, but before he could—

                “Alright Iwa-chan, focus. If we are to initiate you into the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen before our dear lovebirds finish their date, we need to concentrate.”

                “ _Initiate_ me? And the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen? What the fuck is that?”

                Oikawa pulled out a file folder. _Who even is this guy?_ Opening it, and taking out a piece of paper, he cleared his throat so loudly that Hanamaki looked over. Iwaizumi shot him a pleading look which was quickly met with the back of said roommate’s head. So much for moral support. Oikawa cleared his throat again. “Welcome, Iwaizumi Hajime.”

                “Wow, you’re capable of saying my name.”

                “No commentary is necessary from Alliance members at this time, _Iwa-chan._ We are assembled here today for a meeting of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen. Our mission is to provide moral support and the occasional innuendo for our dearest dating friends; the long-term goal being to foster healthy, long-lasting relationships.”

                “Did you actually _prepare a_ _speech_?”

                “Decorum! Now to continue, _uninterrupted,_ with initiation: Iwa-chan, I will now read the contract, and ask you to sign.”

                “Should I even ask?”

                “No.”

                “Proceed,” Iwaizumi said, rolling his eyes. _How many times had this guy had to have tried to set up his friends for him to have come up with formal procedures for the accompanying wingpeople?_

                Oikawa slid the supposed “contract” across the table to Iwaizumi. “Okay, Iwa-chan, first order of business. Circle one,” he said, gesturing to the first item on the sheet. It read _Please indicate why you have been chosen to join the Alliance: A) You are a supportive friend, committed to the success of your friends’ love lives or B) You are an alien deemed worthy of abducting The Honourable Oikawa Tooru, President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen._

                Iwaizumi’s shock at the weirdness of the second item quickly faded to uncontrollable laughter. Once he was calm enough to form sentences, he questioned, “So do you have some sort of extraterrestrial kink, or are you just a giant space nerd?”

                Oikawa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “How vulgar, Iwa-chan!”

                Iwaizumi shrugged, smirking. “ _I_ won’t kinkshame you.”

                Iwaizumi swore Oikawa’s face got seven shades darker as he sputtered, “Alliance meetings are _not_ the time for your pedophilic fantasies of me in bed, Iwa-chan! I know I am irresistible but--“

                “Who said anything about—“

“ _Continuing with procedures,_ Iwa-chan!” Oikawa smoothed his hair as the blush slowly faded from his cheeks. Iwaizumi was glad; yes definitely glad. Oikawa looked possibly even more infuriating when all flustered, and Iwaizumi definitely did _not_ want to see that blush again. Definitely not.

                Oikawa cleared his throat, lacing his fingers together under his chin. “Here, read over the rest of the contract, and sign at the bottom.”

 

**_ The Alliance of Pretty Wingmen: Official Membership Contract _ **

**_Mission Statement:_ ** _Our mission is to provide moral support and the occasional innuendo for our dearest dating friends; the long-term goal being to foster healthy, long-lasting relationships._

**_Please indicate why you have been chosen to join the Alliance:_ ** _A) You are a supportive friend, committed to the success of your friends’ love lives or B) You are an alien deemed worthy of abducting The Honourable Oikawa Tooru, President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen._

**_Conditions of Membership:_ **

_All honorable Alliance members must:_

  1. _be accompanying a Newlydate as_
    1. _official wingperson or_
    2. _secondary wingperson_
  2. _be deemed “pretty” by The Honourable Oikawa Tooru, President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen_
  3. _consent to accompany the Newlydate on minimum 2.3 dates, and therefore attend the same number of Alliance meetings unless_
    1. _terminally ill, or_
    2. _abducted by aliens_
  4. _be prepared for each meeting, with_
    1. _information on recent alien sightings_
    2. _Newlydate status updates_
    3. _a consistent coffee order, all of which should be_
    4. _communicated verbally to The Honourable Oikawa Tooru, President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen_



**_Release of Liability:_ ** _The Alliance of Pretty Wingmen will not take responsibility for any symptoms of oncoming blindness from the brilliance of The Honourable Oikawa Tooru, President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen. It also requests permission to use the undersigned as an alien sacrifice, if applicable and/or necessary._

_Signed: ________________          Cell Phone Number: ________________________

                Iwaizumi had to say, he was impressed (and vaguely terrified; this was in no way satisfactory evidence that this guy was not a psychopath). His scowl deepened, if that was even possible.

                Oikawa snapped his fingers, “Iwa-chan! You’re sinking into grumpy-old-man-stupor!”

                “Asshole!” Iwaizumi flicked him on the forehead, which surprised the perpetrator more than the perpetrated himself. _How the hell did I become so comfortable around Oikawa so quickly?_

                “Iwa-chan, aggressive physical contact is strictly against Alliance Member Protocol!”

                “Don’t tell me you have a code of conduct for this too,” Iwaizumi teased, finding it harder and harder to keep a smile from spreading across his face, especially when Oikawa started to splutter, and blatantly not deny it. _This guy is such a dork._

                “I’ll have you know I spent more than ten days out of my extensively busy college life organizing and planning this club! Do not insult my noble efforts with your verbal irony!”

                This time, Iwaizumi could not stop a laugh from bursting out. (He made a mental note never to trust his lungs again.) “’Extensively busy college life, hm?’ Tell me more, Oikawa.” (Maybe he couldn’t trust his subconscious either—what _part_ of him decided that this conversation with Oikawa Tooru—this dorky, stupid, pretty, dumbass-loser—should not end any time in the near future?)

                “Iwa-chan, wonderful people like me must share our copious amounts of talent through as many outlets as possible! Between midterms and my job and the volleyball team—I _need_ to defeat Ushiwaka-chan next match—“

                “Oh, I used to play volleyball in high school—“

                “ _No way!_ What position?!”

                “Wing spiker.”

                “ _Oh my god I’m a setter that is so perfect why are you not on the university team you could be our ace!”_

“I’m not that—“

                “I can see it already: Ace-waizumi Hajim- _ouch! Iwa-chan! Protocol!”_

(Perhaps they should have called themselves the Alliance of Pretty Terrible Wingmen. Neither even noticed when their dear Newlydates were finished with their date and the sun began to dip below the horizon.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OH DEAR IM SO SORRY I HAVE NOT UPDATED IN SO LONG!!!!!! i promise i'll be better with this in the future...  
> anyway here's a late night/early morning text conversation and bonus meme team  
> (for the text convo oikawa is italics and iwaizumi is underlined)  
> enjoy!

For one of the very few times in his life, Oikawa was completely, utterly and genuinely confused—and Oikawa Tooru simply did _not_ get confused. He could assess the overarching personality traits, speaking habits and mannerisms of an acquaintance within 4 minutes and 37 seconds of meeting them, determine their strengths by the third conversation, and their weaknesses by the fifth. And so, it was genuinely shocking that having lived with Matsukawa for more than three months, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for—

“Oh look who it is! My broslice, the one and only Hanger Tooru! What up broski?”

Standing in the doorway to his dorm room, Oikawa gaped. (Matsukawa Issei was, in fact, a History major with a normally extensive vocabulary.) Before Oikawa could squawk in indignation at “Hanger Tooru” or even _begin_ to question Matsukawa about how he was able to insult every elementary grammar rule in two sentence fragments, he was effectively silenced with his roommate’s next words.

“Dude, that guy you hooked me up with was legit—a true brosicle. He showed me the wonderful world of memes. I owe you one.”

Oikawa buried his head in his hands and fell to his knees, feigning a dramatic death. His aliveness was only determined by the way he shuffled over to the couch to bury his face in the impressive array of throw pillows. “ _Mattsun,_ that was supposed to be a date! I’m trying to get you a _boyfriend,_ not a _brother_!” Oikawa groaned, muffled by the pillow.

Matsukawa looked deeply offended, which baffled Oikawa further. “Oikawa, my broiest of brotein shakes, that is a severe violation of the Bro Code!”

 _What was Mattsun_ doing _? Hadn’t I made it completely clear this was a date? And how on earth did Matsukawa go from articulate History major to the Jesus of bro-ism?_ Oikawa questioned, at this point fully submerged in throw pillows. “Alright Mattsun, you do you. Keep denying your undying love for Makki-chan who I so graciously set you up with and send your official note of thanks later this week.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes ( _Maybe he’s retained_ some _of his old sanity,_ Oikawa thought desperately). “Undying love, my ass. Anyway, he’s coming to the game tomorrow, and we may hang out after—just as total bros though.” ( _Or maybe not.)_ “You don’t need to come with me as ‘wingman’ or shit again,” Matsukawa added, as an afterthought.

“Yes, I do!” Oikawa replied, too quickly.

“You just want to see Hanamaki’s friend again-Iwaizumi, was it?”

“N-no, of course not—this has nothing to _do_ with Iwa-chan! Absolutely nothing. The Alliance of Pretty Wingmen would be incomplete without its president!” (The shade of Oikawa’s face during the exchange said something else.)

Matsukawa shook his head slowly, choosing not to comment. (Bros were supposed to trust each other, however, ridiculous the other may sound—that was part of the Code, after all.) “Whatever you say, Broikawa.”

A muffled scream escaped from somewhere beneath the pillows. _All my hard work in setting up this stupid date, gone to waste, and on top of that I have to worry about facing stupid Ushiwaka’s university tomorrow…_ Oikawa sighed as he resurfaced from his pillow den. Panic was starting to set in; between exams and date set-ups, he hadn’t quite stayed with his usual over-practicing regime in the last few days. Nearly on autopilot, he stuffed some athletic clothes into a duffle bag, along with his volleyball shoes, and left the dorm.

The gym was large and empty, tall walls looming and ceiling fans humming, as Oikawa flicked on the lights and inhaled deeply. The familiar scent of the facility would be of little comfort tonight. Grim determination overtook him as he slammed jump serve after jump serve over the net, not giving a second thought to his sore muscles, aching bones, and too-familiar burning sensation in his right knee. Nothing but the implications of the upcoming match ran through his head as he gathered the scattered volleyballs and began serving again. True, this was only a practice match. However, it was Oikawa’s first time facing Ushijima as starting setter at the currently second-best ranked university for volleyball in all of Japan and Oikawa had to _show him—_

 _3:34 AM,_ the clock on the wall seemed to scream at Oikawa, red light glaring. Suddenly he could feel the sharp burning in his knee again. Oikawa reluctantly called it a night (well, morning). He changed, grabbed his bag and made his way back to the dorm, his body complaining more and more with every step.

Oikawa Tooru was so very tired.

And that was when he remembered the last item on the contract.

 

Running. No, sprinting.

He turned corner after corner, weaving his way through the city, tripping and stumbling and getting up again. His lungs screamed in pain, demanding oxygen, but he just had to keep going.

He was being chased by the Calculus Godzilla after all.

But then he heard a faint buzzing. Turning around to look behind him, he saw that Math Godzilla had _somehow_ transformed into a pack of angry bees, and they were buzzing, getting louder and louder and—

_What the fuck?_

Iwaizumi woke up extremely disgruntled and mildly terrified. He was used to having weird-as-shit dreams during exams, but what scared him was the fact that _the buzzing would not stop. Shit, is there a hornet in my room? Or worse, an entire—_

 _Oh,_ he realized. He picked up his phone from its place on his nightstand.

 _13 unread messages from_ unknown number.

From: Unknown Number (3:58 AM)

                _iwa chan_

From: Unknown Number (3:58 AM)

                _is this u_

From: Unknown Number (3:59 AM)

                _iiiiwwwaaaa chaaaaaannnn_

From: Unknown Number (3:59 AM)

                _u better have put ur actual number_

From: Unknown Number (3:59 AM)

                _because if u didn’t_

From: Unknown Number (3:59 AM)

                _that would be extremely rude_

From: Unknown Number (4:00 AM)

                _p(●_ _｀_ _□´●)q_

From: Unknown Number (4:00 AM)

                _iwa channnnnn_

From: Unknown Number (4:00 AM)

                _iwa chan pls_

From: Unknown Number (4:00 AM)

                _this is srs_

From: Unknown Number (4:00 AM)

                _srs bsnss_

From: Unknown Number (4:01 AM)

                _if u don’t answer ill tell the aliens to never abduct u :(((((_

From: Unknown Number (4:02 AM)

                _iwa chan_

From: Unknown Number (4:02 AM)

                _this is ur last chance_

From: Unknown Number (4:02 AM)

                _do u know what ur gonna miss out on_

From: Unknown Number (4:03 AM)

                _iwa chan space_

From: Unknown Number (4:03 AM)

                _SPACE_

Iwaizumi unlocked his phone, during the process of which, seven new text messages came in. “Unknown Number” had decided to add to the barrage of summons with yet another “IWA CHAN”, this time with one letter per message.

His immediate sentiment was anger, but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep soon anyway. Reluctantly, he typed out a reply: (4:05 AM) Oikawa, is this you? (Who else would call him “Iwa-chan” anyway?)

 **(4:05 AM)** _IWA CHAN FINALLY_

**(4:06 AM)** What the fuck, Oikawa?

**(4:06 AM)** It’s fucking 4 in the morning!

**(4:07 AM)** Why the hell are you not asleep?

No one _should be up at 4 AM, much less a near-professional level volleyball player and Physics major!_ Iwaizumi thought angrily. _What does this idiot think he’s doing?_

 **(4:08 AM)** _sleep is the enemy_

 **(4:08 AM)** _it must be defeated_

 **(4:09 AM)** No, dumbass, it is a necessary survival function.

 **(4:09 AM)** _well_

 **(4:09 AM)** _ur not asleep either_

**(4:09 AM)** _¯\\_(_ _ツ_ _)_/¯_

**(4:10 AM)** And whose fault is that?

 **(4:10 AM)** _which means_

 **(4:10 AM)** _we can discuss matters of great importance!_

 **(4:10 AM)** I’m going back to bed.

 **(4:11 AM)** _NO_

 **(4:11 AM)** _IWACHAN_

 **(4:11 AM)** _COME BACK_

 **(4:15 AM)** _I SWEAR ILL MAKE THE ALIENS LEAVE U BEHING_

**(4:15 AM)** _ULL BE ALL ALONE_

**(4:18 AM)** (´；д；`)

**(4:19 AM)** Ok if you shut up about the aliens

**(4:19 AM)** What are these matters of great importance you wish to discuss at this ungodly hour of the morning?

**(4:19 AM)** _IWA CHAN UR BACK_

**(4:20 AM)** _blaze it_

**(4:20 AM)** _I KNEW U LOVED ME TOO MUCH TO LEAVE 4 REAL_ （*＾ワ＾*）

**(4:20 AM)** Fuck off.

**(4:20 AM)** Can we get this over with?

**(4:20 AM)** _rude!!!!!!!!_

**(4:21 AM)** _but ill 4give u_

**(4:21 AM)** _so iwachan theres a practice vball match tomorrow_

**(4:21 AM)** _and mattsun and makki are going 2 “hang out” after_

**(4:22 AM)** _which counts as a date_

**(4:22 AM)** _WHICH MEANS MANDATORY ALLIANCE MEETING_

**(4:23 AM)** Oikawa. It is four thirty in the morning.

**(4:23 AM)** _the morning is young, iwa chan~_

**(4:24 AM)** And you’ve woken me up to tell me about a volleyball game I was already planning on going to.

**(4:24 AM)** _!!!!!!!!!!!_

**(4:24 AM)** _IWACHAN EXPLAIN URSELF_

**(4:24 AM)** Not to mention one that you need your goddamn rest for!

**(4:25 AM)** _never underestimate the power of espresso iwa chan_

**(4:25 AM)** Caffeine is not the answer, Shittykawa. Go to sleep. I’ll see you later today.

**(4:25 AM)** _DID YOU JUST CALL ME_

**(4:25 AM)** _IWA CHAN GAVE ME A NICKNAME_

**(4:25 AM)** Trashykawa

**(4:25 AM)** Crappykawa

**(4:26 AM)** _IWA CHAN NO_

**(4:26 AM)** _HOW COULD YOU TURN SOMETHING AS CUTE AS A NICKNAME INTO SOMETHING SO MEAN_

**(4:27 AM)** Because you need sleep and I do too.

**(4:28 AM)** _WAIT IWA CHAN_

**(4:28 AM)** _why are u going to the game?_

**(4:28 AM)** _besides to bask in the brilliance of my volleyball talents_

**(4:28 AM)** Hanamaki was freaking out (again) about his “bro hang out”

**(4:29 AM)** You know, moral support and such

**(4:29 AM)** _aww makki-chan_

**(4:29 AM)** _hes doing that bro thing too_

**(4:30 AM)** _thats so cute im so excited for them to finally realize their everlasting love 4 eachother_

**(4:31 AM)** Oikawa, go to bed.

**(4:31 AM)** _but iwa chan_

**(4:32 AM)** Good night

**(4:32 AM)** _more like good morning~!_

**(4:32 AM)** Good night, Shittykawa.

**(4:33 AM)** _goodnight iwa chan~!!_ _(*´0_ _｀_ _)_

 

If any part deep inside of Iwaizumi was inclined to smile, his facial expression absolutely did not acknowledge it. Not at all.

(And if that same part of him hoped that a few doors down the hall, a certain idiot was smiling too—well, he’d save that thought for a more sane hour of the morning.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (oh my god i am so sorry i literally have not updated in mo n t h s i know this is an excuse but i've had to study for 3 exams which i fINALLY finished last week. hopefully i will be better with updating from now on...)
> 
> chapter summary:  
> -hanamaki has a crisis  
> -oikawa tooru is good at volleyball  
> -iwaizumi has threatening arms  
> -are memes truly organic?  
> -the alliance must carry on

Hanamaki was having an early-in-life crisis, and Iwaizumi, for once, had no idea how to deal with it.

The way Iwaizumi saw it, Hanamaki’s (numerous, mainly food-related) crises had an Inciting Condition, a Course of Action (on the part of Hanamaki or another individual, depending on if the crisis was food-related or not), and a Key Factor that made the Course of Action turn into a Crisis (read: “burden on [Hanamaki’s], poor, young, innocent soul”). For example, a recent Inciting Condition had been a surprise attack of Hanamaki’s ever-present craving for chocolate. The Course of Action Hanamaki had taken was to microwave a fresh tub of Nutella for a warm, chocolatey snack. However, the Key Factor that had turned this apparent solution to the bear-before-hibernation hunger into a complete disaster was the fact that Hanamaki had forgotten to take off the metal seal on the Nutella and ended up setting the microwave on fire. Fortunately, Iwaizumi usually had a Solution to Hanamaki’s Crises; in that case it was the gift of a new microwave and passive aggressive chocolate- and wildfire-themed sarcasm for his birthday.

But this time, the Inciting Condition was the practice volleyball match between Tokai University and Tsubuka University, the necessary Course of Action Matsukawa took was to wear his team’s volleyball uniform to the game, and the Key Factor that made this into a Crisis was the apparent state of perfection of Matsukawa’s ass.

And Iwaizumi, for once, was without a Solution. Or, an Actually Plausible Solution, according to Hanamaki, since “just go ask him on a real date afterwards—the worst he could say is no” and “then just get a drink from that water fountain for your thirst” were apparently impossible (the former because of the Bro Code and the latter because “Niagara Falls couldn’t quench my thirst!”).

Iwaizumi did not want to admit to himself that, under normal circumstances, he would be able to come up with a better way to solve this one of many Hanamaki Crises. And he was even less inclined to admit that he was distracted, and the subject of the distraction in question was none other than Oikawa Tooru.

Because Iwaizumi Hajime did not get distracted. He had an incredible level of focus, and when he concentrated on one task, whether it be studying, watching TV or solving others’ personal issues, nothing could change the direction of his immediate attention. (Hanamaki had thrown an industrial-sized house party in their dorm while Iwaizumi had been writing a Biology paper in his bedroom and Iwaizumi had been blissfully unaware until a month after, when an incident that had taken place at the party involving two of their friends, Kuroo Tetsurou and Bokuto Koutarou, was brought up in a conversation.)

Yet now, tearing Iwaizumi’s previously unwavering concentration away from Hanamaki’s problem, was how _good_ Oikawa was at volleyball.

Iwaizumi could not help but be transfixed by the starting setter. He could tell from his volleyball experience that Oikawa’s sets were near perfect, tailored exactly to each spiker’s preferred hit. He never used the same strategy twice in a row, trying his hardest to keep his opponents scrambling. Iwaizumi watched, mesmerized, as the setter jumped up as if to spike the ball on the second hit, but switched to a set to Matsukawa at the very last second, scoring a point for his team. Although he was only a first-year at the university, there was no doubt that Oikawa deserved a starting position.

Iwaizumi was shocked out of his stupor by a shriek from Hanamaki. “Iwaizumi, did you just _see_ Matsukawa spike that ball? Shit, bro, go write a fucking eulogy—those shorts are going to be the death of me.”

As Iwaizumi dutifully commenced Hanamaki’s funeral preparations, he noticed that a new player was being substituted onto Tsubuka’s team. Tokai had been slowly pulling ahead, in large part due to Oikawa’s strategy and precise sets. His team worked so cohesively it was nearly flawless, and the score had begun to show it. However, now that this new guy had been subbed in, Iwaizumi could sense the atmosphere had shifted. He felt it in the murmurings of the visiting Tsubuka fans, the obviously hopeful expressions of the players on their bench, the tense anticipation of the group of Tokai second years who had congregated nearby.

He saw it in Oikawa’s face.

Because the encouraging, easygoing smile Iwaizumi was so used to see spreading across Oikawa’s face as he congratulated his teammates on that nice kill had twisted into a grimace the second the new player had stood up from the bench. It was obvious that Oikawa was extremely unhappy about this development—even more so than his teammates, who looked apprehensive but not ready to hit a volleyball so hard it would burst, as their setter clearly was.

It was Oikawa’s turn to serve. He approached that amazing jump serve with not only all his regular power, but a good spoonful of concentrated, carefully channeled anger, forcing the ball straight through his opponents’ defense to land right inside the back line in a service ace. Hanamaki whooped loudly, and after Iwaizumi blatantly did _not_ have the thought that Oikawa could be terrifying, he clapped. (And cheered a bit.)

But the next serve was received. (And was it just Iwaizumi, or did Oikawa wobble a bit on his landing? _He needed to stop over-reacting. And staring._ ) With difficulty, it was to be noted, the ball was scrambled to Tsubuka’s setter and tossed it to the new player, who spiked it with such pure strength that it ripped through Matsukawa and his blocking team to hit the ground in front of a diving Oikawa.

Hanamaki turned to Iwaizumi, eyes nearly popping out of his face. “Dude did you see that? I’m surprised that shit didn’t dent the floor!”

Iwaizumi did not realize his teeth were clenched and he was holding his breath until he remembered to exhale a few seconds later. It was clear that this player’s spike had torn straight through the block due to pure strength. Iwaizumi quickly saw that although Oikawa was slowly pulling Tokai ahead, this exhibit of brute force, combined with the fact that Tsubuka _was_ a known powerhouse school, could turn the match around.

“Who even _is_ that guy?” Iwaizumi muttered to Hanamaki, not really expecting his friend to know.

His roommate surprised him, “Ushijima Wakatoshi. Matsukawa told me about him yesterday. Apparently Ushijima and Oikawa had this huge rivalry thing in high school. Like Aoba Jousai, where Matsukawa and Oikawa went, and Shiratorizawa, where Ushijima went, had the top volleyball teams in Japan, but according to Matsukawa, Oikawa had some personal thing against Ushijima. And Aoba Jousai kept losing to Shiratorizawa in the finals, so they never really got to nationals.”

Iwaizumi grunted in acknowledgement. He had to grudgingly admit that Ushijima was an excellent player—practically a genius. In addition to sending spike after spike crashing through Tokai’s defense, he could block, receive and serve with incredible accuracy and strength. Although it was evident that Tokai was playing their absolute best, Oikawa possibly working hardest of all, Tsubuka was beginning to pull ahead.

The game ended with Tsubuka winning 25-23 in the final set (after Tokai had won the first, and Tsubuka had won the second). Iwaizumi’s eyes were drawn to Oikawa, who was clearly masking a grimace—and a limp. “Why is that dumbass limping?” he muttered to himself. The insult was betrayed by the concern lacing his voice.

Hanamaki surprised him again, “Matsukawa said that Oikawa has some knee problem because he keeps overworking himself. Like apparently he’s crazy, staying hours after practice jump-serving. _I_ don’t know why—it looked pretty damn flawless to me.”

“That _idiot_ shouldn’t overwork when he has an injury! Is he fucking insane? He could ruin his knee for good!” Iwaizumi surprised himself with the vehemence of his exclamation, wondering why he had such a sudden urge to hit Oikawa.

Hanamaki raised his faint eyebrows. “Dude, calm down. Let’s go before Matsukawa sees us—I can feel my proximity to those damn shorts shrinking my lifespan as we speak.”

Iwaizumi glowered, restraining himself from punching his roommate by crossing his arms, “You did _not_ drag my tired, post-Calculus-exam ass to this stupid volleyball game just for you to run away right when it ended. Stop being a dumbass and go talk to him, Hanamaki.”

Hanamaki physically took a step backward, “Okay, fine, I will.”

“Good.”

“But only because your arms are scary.”

“ _Come back here, you asshole!_ ”

 

After being threatened to be put into a strong-armed headlock three times, and at least five solid pushes from said arms, Hanamaki finally approached Matsukawa. After telling the latter that he played well, Iwaizumi felt he best excuse himself to go to the washroom as the conversation somehow turned to the legitimacy of a “meem”’s claim to organic-ness. When he got back, the pair was gone. Iwaizumi looked around, scowling. He resolved to buy only enough instant ramen for his own dinner to pay back Hanamaki for ditching him. He was just turning toward the gym complex’s entrance when he heard a shrill, “ _Iwa-chan!”_

He whipped around in just enough time to see six feet of brown-haired volleyball player hurtling toward him before Oikawa almost knocked him over with a bear hug. Oikawa pulled back after a second, slightly breathless. “You came!” he exclaimed.

Iwaizumi vaguely made a mental note that he could _not_ in fact force the heat creeping up his neck, as he stared at the blinking, slightly flustered setter, away with sheer willpower. “Couldn’t miss an alliance meeting. Even though this whole thing is stupid,” he added, scratching his traitorously red neck.

Oikawa’s mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Oh, of course not, Iwa-chan. Where are our young lovebirds anyway?”

Iwaizumi snorted, “Young lovebirds, my ass. They were talking about organic produce when I last saw them. Then I went to use the washroom and they were gone when I came back.”

Oikawa actually _giggled._ “I knew it! They went on a date~”

“So if we don’t know where they actually are, we can’t exactly have a meeting. I’m leaving, then, Shittykawa.”

If there was one thing that traveled faster than a volleyball hit by one of Oikawa’s jump serves, it was his facial expressions, which changed from that million-watt smile to an enormous man-child pout in milliseconds. “Iwa-channnnn...you can’t leave now! The point of the alliance is moral support—“

“Which, judging from how fast they went MIA, our roommates _do not need—“_

“—which we could provide by going on a date of our own!”

Iwaizumi gaped like a fish, mouth opening and closing several times before he forced out a “What?”

Oikawa sighed with his usual dramatic flair. “Oh, come on Iwa-chan. Empathizing with a situation can be a great way to show support. And it’s not even a real date anyway—we’re just having an alliance meeting _in disguise._ Isn’t that exciting, Iwa-chan?” He looked at Iwaizumi with such a hopeful expression that the latter simply _had_ to nod assent, albeit reluctantly.

“There’s a movie theatre nearby. I heard there’s a new alien movie out! Come on, Iwa-chan!”

(And when Oikawa would not stop whisper-shrieking during the movie about how the special effects were _amazing,_ Iwa chan!—Iwaizumi was more inclined to believe that way the flashing brightness of said special effects lit up the idiots face was much more amazing.)

 

After the movie, Oikawa suggested they stop for ice cream. He took Iwaizumi’s lack of adamant refusal as an invitation, slinging an arm around the latter’s shoulders and steering him toward the shop. Iwaizumi realized that Oikawa was leaning quite heavily on him, and was about to yell at him until he remembered the volleyball player’s knee injury.

He found himself wanting to yell at Oikawa for a very different reason. “Dumbass,” he sighed, “what’s wrong with your knee?”

“Oh, Iwa-chan, you _do_ have a heart under those _layers_ upon _layers_ of brutish exterior! Don’t you worry, your favourite setter will be fine~” But Oikawa’s words sounded like a practiced lie and his smile didn’t meet his eyes and his limp seemed to somehow have gotten worse—

“You don’t _look_ fine.”

Oikawa’s face darkened, and he laughed bitterly. “I lost it for Tokai, didn’t I? I couldn’t beat Ushijima, and we lost the game. I’ll train harder for next time, and we’ll win, and then I’ll be fine,” he finished, trying to mask the desperation Iwaizumi saw so clearly in his eyes.

Iwaizumi shook his head, scowling deeply. Tokai had a long history of losing against Tsubuka, according to Hanamaki, and it seemed that Oikawa’s setting went far in letting his team pull off such a close game. Hell, the guy already had fangirls _._ “You really are dense sometimes.”

Oikawa gasped, but his expression lacked its usual dramatic flair. “ _Rude,_ Iwa-chan! Just because you—“

“Shut up, Shittykawa. You played well today.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for the kudos n comments n bookmarks so far!! i really appreciate it :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh dear I need to update more don't I?  
> (i finished this at 1:30 am. i apologize in advance.)
> 
> chapter summary:
> 
> -oikawa needs sleep  
> -iwaizumi needs a shirt  
> -simmering causes problems
> 
> lmao??enjoy???

Oikawa Tooru hated mornings. Tuesday mornings in particular.

Frankly, mornings are universally unenjoyable unless one finds oneself with _a)_ a well-maintained sleep schedule or _b)_ the ability to make coffee in the later stages of sleep so that it is immediately available to counteract the desire to murder induced by that first beep of one’s alarm clock. However, this particular Oikawa Tooru _detested_ this particular Tuesday morning due to, in no particular order:

 _1)_ His 7:30 am Chemistry class

 _2)_ His habit of practicing volleyball into the early hours of the mornings following the practice match

 _3)_ His thorough morning routine.

His hatred was brought on by the fact that to make it to _1)_ he had to forego _3)_ which he _could not do_ because of the atrocious effect that _2)_ had on his face when he woke up. Really, as Oikawa grumbled to Matsukawa many a time, his pale skin tone and rigorous (read: self-destructive) until-4-am practice regimen could not have a more unfortunate lovechild than the blatantly visible dark circles that made their home under his brown eyes.

Only his roommate knew about the incessant practicing, having given up on trying to talk him out of it in their third year of high school. And Oikawa intended to keep it that way; he _had_ to practice to improve and stay in a starting position _and_ beat Ushiwaka-chan and also Tobio-chan when he made it to university, and he didn’t _need_ anyone else to remind him he could get injured and—

“Wow, I have never seen _quite_ a vibrant shade of violet; it really complements the brown in your eyes,” Matsukawa yawned, sipping his coffee. The lucky asshole didn’t have class until 10.

“ _Rude Mattsun!”_ came Oikawa’s reply. “They can’t be _that_ bad.”

Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “I’m going back to bed. Good luck finding the other six colours of the rainbow.”

With a “So _mean!”_ Oikawa turned and stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. And that was how he found himself in the bathrooms shared by the dormitory floor at 7:02 am, alternating between mouthfuls of coffee and layers of concealer.

Oikawa jumped at the sound of the door swinging open. Despite the coffee, he hadn’t realized just how drowsy he was. He turned around to see none other than Iwaizumi wearing nothing more than a bath towel.

_Shit._

Quickly, before the other was aware of his presence, Oikawa whipped his head back to the mirror and angled it sharply upward. Iwaizumi was attractive on a regular basis, hence the fourth word in “The Alliance of Pretty Wingmen”, but Iwaizumi minus a shirt equalled a level of Sculpted Arms and Abs that Oikawa was unable to handle this early in the morning.

“Oikawa!”

“Morning, Iwa-chan~,” Oikawa did _not_ turn around.

“What the hell are you doing with your weird head twisted up that way?” Iwaizumi demanded. Oikawa could practically feel the scowl radiating off of him.

“So rude—my head is not weird! And I’m contouring my collarbones, Iwa-chan. I wake up flawless, but I like to exceed expectations~,” Oikawa said, waving his bottle of concealer around. He prayed that Iwaizumi had no grasp of the appropriate use of different makeup products. He still wasn’t exactly sure why he was trying so hard to hide the fact that he was covering up the signs of his late night practicing habit, but he somehow thought he’d be letting the other man down should he know Oikawa was overworking himself.

Especially after Iwaizumi told him that he “played well” in the game last week.

(Oikawa had been so flustered at Iwaizumi’s honesty, his _care,_ that the latter had to ask if he was prone to sudden fevers.)

Iwaizumi snorted, “Stupidkawa. When’s your first class?”

“7:30,” Oikawa said distractedly, examining his collarbones in the mirror. _Now that he thought about it, they_ could _use some con—_

Oikawa felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around, coming directly face-to-face with a _very_ shirtless Iwaizumi. “Uh, Oikawa, you better hurry up. It’s 7:28,” Iwaizumi said, showing him his watch.

“ _Shit!”_ Oikawa yelled, throwing his concealer into his bag. The building that housed his Chemistry class was not exactly across campus, but it was a fair walk. Then he remembered, “Oh, Iwa-chan! Meet me for lunch—I’ll text you the details. A little bird told me Makki and Mattsun are having lunch together, and that sounds like a date, so I’m calling an Alliance meeting!” He and Iwaizumi had been texting quite often lately, messages mainly consisting of random “Eureka moments” and selfies from Oikawa and sarcastic replies as well as the odd picture of small animals from Iwaizumi.

“By “little bird”, do you mean Matsukawa?” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“No! Birds are cute and will fly away if you yell at them when they’re being annoying!” And with that, Oikawa grabbed his coffee, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and began his weekly sprint to 7:30 am Chemistry.

 

**(7:32 AM)** _meet me @ the same coffee shop as the 1st time!_ _(^_ <)_ _〜_ _☆_

**(7:32 AM)** _12:15 SHARP iwachan!!!_

**(7:33 AM)** Shittykawa. You are in class.

**(7:33 AM)** _no fun iwachannnn_ _(_ _；￣_ _Д_ _￣_ _)_

**(7:33 AM)** _will u b there tho_

**(7:33 AM)** Of course. See you then.

**(7:34 AM)** Don’t explode anything in chemistry.

**(7: 34 AM)** _see ya~_

**(7: 34 AM)** _and u wound me iwachan im responsible!!!_ _(_ _ง_ _•̀_•́)_ _ง_

Oikawa Tooru _really_ hated Tuesdays.

Because with this particular Tuesday’s 7:30 am Chemistry class came an Epiphany and a Realization (in that order, with a toxic explosion somewhere in this mess).

The Epiphany in question was that Oikawa had a—no, Oikawa Tooru crushed his opponents in volleyball; he did not get _crushes._ Oikawa had been trying to decipher the nervous energy and fluttery feeling that seemed to pay him and his stomach a visit time he saw, received a text from or, heck, even _thought_ about Iwaizumi Hajime, ever since the latter had complimented his playing the week before. Don’t get him wrong, he had found Iwaizumi almost unfairly good-looking from the beginning, but the sincerity of that commentary had thrown his feelings into a blender, and the half-hearted insults and gruff “Shittykawa”s and light punches and shoves that punctuated their easy banter had become endearing. And from this simmering mess of thoughts had come the striking Epiphany that Oikawa _liked_ Iwaizumi.

(The toxic explosion was a result of Oikawa’s failure to remember that the toxic mixture of chemicals that made up his practice lab was also simmering, with no Epiphany to stop _it_ from reaching its point of combustion.)

As he sullenly cleaned up the reactive mess while trying not to make eye contact with his professor, he realized just how many problems this new piece of information would cause him. While Oikawa looked almost affectionately upon Iwaizumi’s constant stream of sarcasm and insulting nicknames, there was every possibility that Iwaizumi was nothing more than mildly amused and/or slightly irritated at Oikawa’s antics. However, Oikawa then realized that he and Iwaizumi were becoming fast friends, and despite his feelings, that he would never want to ruin this friendship. This led to his Realization—that according to the contract, the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen would be officially terminated that day (this would be Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s third date, and the requirement on the contract was (precisely_ 2.3 dates).

And Oikawa had no way of knowing for certain that Iwaizumi would stay his friend when he was no longer bound by the contract to spend time with the setter.

 _Get a grip, Tooru,_ he told himself as he (finally) put the cleaning supplies away. _You are the_ President _of this Alliance!_

And so it dawned on him: _contracts can be amended._

Tuesdays were still terrible, but maybe this one wouldn’t end up being so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god have i mentioned all these kudos n comments n bookmarks make my day?? thank you so much!!!! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a month without uploading she comes back with a chapter
> 
> featuring:  
> -kuroo the chemistry nerd  
> -oikawa's responsible citizenship  
> -the confusion of bokuto, akaashi and kuroo  
> -"just a pinch of gay" iwaizumi hajime

For the first time since he could remember, Oikawa couldn’t wait for volleyball practice to end.

At the end of his Satan’s-asshole-o-clock in the morning Chemistry class, his classmate and teammate Kuroo Tetsurou had approached him. The two had met when they signed up for the volleyball club at the beginning of the year. They, along with another volleyball-playing first year named Bokuto Koutarou had easily formed a friendship based on an odd combination of 1) a certain team sport, 2) insult-based humour and 3) a shared obsession with hair products. “Hey, Oikawa,” Kuroo had said, leaning nonchalantly on a lab bench. Oikawa had unhappily noted how the middle blocker seemed to be completely clean and free of what he (and his poor hair) distraughtly referred to as “explosion gunk”. “I heard from the Captain that there would be a quick practice from 10:00 to 12:00. I think we have another practice match in a week.”

Oikawa had sighed. “Ugh, Tetsu-chan, I _really_ wanted to take a long shower.” He was giving off a slight odour of burning toxic waste.

“Aw, poor bean,” Kuroo had said with mock sympathy, which had quickly faded to his usual smirk. “Your hair looks like a dead rat, by the way.”

Oikawa had stuck out his tongue, like the true university student he was. “I bet you paid Captain to schedule this practice right now so you could live out the glory of having my hair look worse than yours for a few more precious hours.”

Kuroo’s face split into a triumphant grin. “Oho! So you admit my hair looks better!”

“Never, Bedhead-chan!” Oikawa had shrieked, continuing the banter that would lead them to practice.

 

Usually, Oikawa embraced the continuity of volleyball practice. The team would warm up, have a talk with their coaches and captain, focus on a particular skill or strategy for the large part of the practice, and proceed to clean up (or, in Oikawa’s case, blatantly _not_ clean up) and close up the gym at the end. During practice, he was confident in his serves and sets and got along well with the team, and looked forward to this constant when university courses, practice matches and his own insecurities became overwhelming.

But today he was restless. His sets didn’t feel quite right as they left his fingers, and there was a row of empty water bottles standing upright in a line that remained at the end of his serving practice. However, none of his team members noticed anything out of the ordinary until the end of practice.

Akaashi Keiji had seen a lot in his lifetime. Having been friends with Bokuto since childhood, and met both Oikawa and Kuroo a few months prior, it would be fair to say that he had witnessed more than a retired kindergarten teacher, at the tender age of eighteen. And so the antics of his teammates rarely fazed him at all anymore. However, when practice came to a close, and the team was tidying up the gym, Akaashi spotted one of the most bizarre happenings he had ever seen.

Oikawa Tooru was helping to clean up the gym.

Oikawa Tooru, who had literally faked diarrhea to avoid post-practice tidying, was gathering volleyballs and not walking but _running_ them over to the basket.

This needed to be addressed. “Oikawa, what are you doing?” he yelled across the gym, unable to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Oikawa turned around from where he was loosening the ties on one of the volleyball nets. “Taking down this net, Akaashi!” he said distractedly, flashing his trademark peace sign before quickly spinning back around to lift out one of the poles.

Akaashi was, to say the least, bewildered, but did not wish to test Bokuto’s theory that Oikawa’s hair could cushion his big head even from a large piece of metal, so he waited for the setter to return the pole to the storage closet before questioning him further.

Oikawa’s unexpected show of responsible citizenship had drawn the attention of both Bokuto and Kuroo, who rushed over to join him and Akaashi. “Hey, Oikawa, you feeling okay?” Kuroo questioned, mild concern lacing his voice, as the four first-years entered the changeroom.

Oikawa turned to face Kuroo so quickly there was a high chance he gave himself whiplash. “Okay? Of course I’m okay! I am the living embodiment of okay! What makes you think it’s okay to question the fact that I’m okay when I’m so obviously okay, okay?” His voice had a nice soprano quality to it, and he was scattering various clothing items and hair products as he rummaged through his bag for something.

Bokuto, Kuroo and Akaashi exchanged a look. Kuroo stepped forward and grabbed Oikawa’s forearm, forcing him to look at his three friends. “We’re staging an intervention,” Kuroo deadpanned. “First you start putting shit away in the gym, and now you’re causing hurricanes on the other side of the world because of your shitstorm of shampoo.”

Oikawa pulled his arm from Kuroo’s grasp, catching the sight of a bright green bottle out of the corner of his eye. “Aha! My conditioner!” he exclaimed. Oikawa dove for the product, snatched a few more bottles from his bag as well as a pile of clothes, and started powerwalking toward the showers.

“Sorry to rush out guys, I’m late for lunch!” He raised one hand, peace sign outstretched, and disappeared into a shower stall.

The three other first-years stared at each other, dumbfounded.

_Since when did Oikawa care about being on time to anything?_

“For someone who text-yelled at me to get here at 12:15 “ _sharp!”_ you sure are late.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes as Oikawa strolled briskly into the coffee shop, giving a grand wave and flashing a bright smile. “It’s 12:30, idiot.”

“Time is a social construct, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa replied indignantly, sliding into the chair opposite Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa’s leg under the table. “No it isn’t, dumbass.”

“I haven’t even been here thirty seconds and you’ve already managed to insult me. So rude, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said indignantly.

Iwaizumi chuckled to himself. He rather grudgingly admitted that he did enjoy spending time with Oikawa; it felt very natural, like they had been friends for a long time. “For someone who just said that ‘time is a social construct’, that was awfully precise.”

 

After ordering their lunches, an ordeal that revealed Oikawa as a closet obnoxious but startlingly accurate food critic, the two sat back down to eat. “So, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa began, “you must be wondering why I summoned you here, besides, of course, the opportunity for you to bask in my brilliance again.”

Iwaizumi tried rather unsuccessfully to concentrate on creating the most unimpressed scowl he could muster, instead of on the inexplicably yet incredibly distracting smear of whipped cream on the corner of Oikawa’s mouth.

“The Alliance has encountered some, ah, technical difficulties,” Oikawa affirmed.

“Technical difficulties?”

Oikawa explained, “Well we’ve seemed to encounter a rare case of Not Actually Dating in the case of our dear friends, Makki and Mattsun.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Oikawa, we can’t exactly force them to fall in love or shit. It’s not exactly any or our business.”

Oikawa sighed in exasperation. “But can’t you just _tell_ they like each other? They’re just in denial!” he exclaimed.

The black haired man found himself nodding in agreement. After all, that volleyball game had proven just how thirsty Hanamaki really was. “Alright, Cupid. What do you suggest we do?”

“Aha, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, a satisfied smile returning to his balanced features. “That brings us to the matter of the contract. You see, the agreement was that we accompany them on a minimum of 2.3 dates. This is the third date, and they _still_ have not ascended from the Bro Zone. And so, as the President of the Alliance of Pretty Wingmen, I request that you…continue this wingman-in with me for a few more dates?” he finished in a rush, words tripping over each other to reach the end of the sentence, which seemed like a question.

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened slightly. The idea that he would not be required to spend time with Oikawa after this had never actually crossed his mind. What surprised him even more was the amount of distaste he felt toward that notion. “Yeah, of course,” he said. Something in the setter’s big brown eyes prompted him to add, voice softening, “It would be weird not having your annoying face around all the time.”

(It was definitely not the sudden bear hug he received in return that made admitting that fact worth it.) (And definitely not his soft brown hair tickling his nose, or the soft vanilla scent that Iwaizumi could not help but inhale for the way the other boy’s body was pressed so close up against his own.)

 

**(11:42 PM)** Hey Oikawa?

**(11:43 PM)** So there’s supposed to be a meteor shower tomorrow night.

**(11:43 PM)** And I was going to watch it with Hanamaki, but he just invited Matsukawa, and I really don’t want to inevitably end up as the third wheel.

**(11:44 PM)** Besides, you have some weird thing for space anyway, right?

**(11:47 PM)** _!!! AHHH_

**(11:47 PM)** _DID IWACHAN JUST CALL AN ALLIANCE MEETING???!!?!?_

**(11:48 PM)** Don’t push it, dumbass.

**(11:48 PM)** _ahem_

**(11:48 PM)** _I thought ud never ask!!_

**(11:48 PM)** _see u there iwachan!_

**(11:49 PM)** ✧・ﾟ: *✧・ﾟ:* *:・ﾟ✧*:・ﾟ✧ .・゜゜・ ・゜゜・． ｡・ﾟﾟ・ ・ﾟﾟ・｡

**(11:49 PM)** See you, Trashykawa

**(11:55 PM)** Also Oikawa?

**(11:55 PM)** _ya_

**(11:55 PM)** Get some sleep tonight, ok?

 **(11:56 PM)** _aw iwachan im touched_

 **(11:56 PM)** _i will!!! u 2!!!!!!!!_

**(11:57 PM)** _goodnight iwachan!!_ _(*´0_ _｀_ _) (*´0_ _｀_ _)_

**(11:57 PM)** Goodnight, Oikawa. Sleep well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!! and thank you for the kudos and comments! also constructive criticism is always welcome! (i mean feel free to straight up drag me as well) :)


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